


Flowers, films and fancy dinners

by btab66



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, just the ineffable husbands being fluffy, originally posted for go love day 2020, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btab66/pseuds/btab66
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale finally figure things out and it just so happens that it's Valentine's Day and Crowley has some lovely flowers.This was originally posted on Tumblr for GO Love Day 2020 and gifted to @thelasthomelyurl
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Flowers, films and fancy dinners

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally made an ao3 account and I'm uploading things I've written on Tumblr, you can find me there @btab66 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day :)

Being located slap bang in Soho meant seeing the best and worst that humanity had to offer. In Aziraphale's opinion, this particular day of the year brought out the better side of humanity (and whether Aziraphale placed a blessing on everyone who passed the bookshop, well, who was to blame him)

He simply couldn't contain the joy that Valentine's Day brought out. As a being of love, it was as though he was made for this very day.

He thought this was rather ironic if he was being honest - the flowers, films and fancy dinners weren't exactly what Aziraphale got on Valentine's Day - for that would require him to have a lover of course. If he desired, he could have had many over the years, he wasn't embarrassed to admit that he had turned a few heads, especially when the gavotte was a ubiquitous pastime.

Yet, a human lover could never be what Aziraphale needed. No, he simply couldn't love someone so utterly, with all his devotion, only to have to give them up in the blink of an eye. It seemed like a cruel irony - to sense this love but be unable to reciprocate with equal fervour.

He yearned.

Yearned for the love that he saw in the humans, especially during this time of year. Yearned for luscious flowers on his doorstep, to kiss his lover as they presented him with chocolates, and invite them in to enjoy a glass or two of wine, ready to relish an extravagant restaurant dinner only to return to a marathon of romantic films whilst exchanging kisses all the while, cuddled together and content.

It was then that a knock interrupted his idle musings. Not a tentative knock, nor a distracted knock, no, it was a confident knock, the knock of someone with a purpose. Which, of course, meant it could only be one person, well demon to be precise.

"Angel, all this love everywhere's giving me a headache. I need wine. A lot of it."

"Now, my dear, I know that's not true but I suppose some wine would be in order," with that remark Aziraphale miracled them an uncorked bottle and two glasses, pouring a generous amount in both and handing one to Crowley, who, by this point, was already sprawled across his furniture as though he intended to stay a while.

With a delicate brush of hands, Crowley took the glass and downed half before vaguely gesturing the glass to be full again.

It wasn't unusual for Crowley to visit the bookshop, more regularly now that the threat of either of their former sides reprimanding them was no longer a concern. Sometimes he would arrive with some of his plant cuttings to gift to the angel "because, really, angel, it really is too drab in here". But of course Aziraphale didn't believe this to be true, yet accepted the plants nonetheless and ensconced them in crevices between books as the bookshop couldn't look too appealing from outside or it might actually attract customers, Hell forbid.

Today Crowley came bearing flowers: red roses, a dozen, wrapped in crinkled tissue paper and tied together by the stems. He hadn't mentioned them yet, but then again, neither had Aziraphale. He presumed that Crowley had bought them for whoever he was going to see later this evening, for Aziraphale knew Crowley didn't harbour his aversion to having human lovers. No, it didn't seem to bother Crowley that it would be such a fleeting romance.

Disturbing his thoughts once more, Crowley eventually spoke up about the flowers,

"Angel, I know you're curious, you are allowed to ask," a teasing glint in his eye and a light smirk upon his lips matched his tone.

"Well, my dear, I assume you would explain anyway but alright then, why do you have a bunch of flowers on Valentine's Day? Surely they need to be delivered to their recipient?"

"You're right, they do"

Nothing in Crowley's demeanour betrayed him and for a moment Aziraphale feared he was about to leave and was just about to miracle away their glasses and now half empty bottle that stood stoutly on the table between them.

In a fluid movement, Crowley both refilled his glass and placed the bouquet on the table, beside the wine, and before Aziraphale could question why, he began to speak.

"You know this whole flower giving malarkey is one of mine? They give these to their lovers and think they're so romantic, when all they're really doing is gifting dying foliage and paying a Heaven of a lot for it! Absolutely absurd but they fell for it, the lot of them. They even have fields specially to grow these in. How bloody ridiculous! Point is, you don't buy them for your partner and they'll be annoyed but if you do, you're out twenty quid and probably prick yourself in the process. It's ingenious"

"I must admit that I had no idea that you thought of that, however, that doesn't explain why you bought some yourself"

"Buy them? Angel, please! I grew them. Why the Heaven would I show you shop-bought red roses?"

"Quite, why would you?" Aziraphale muttered under his breath, somewhat pleased to hear that Crowley hadn't bought them for some human suitor of his, yet slightly affronted that he'd come here to flaunt them, on Valentine's Day nonetheless, not that he'd ever admit this to the demon in question.

Leaning forward, Crowley pushed the flowers further to Aziraphale's side of the table and renewed his wine glass once more having drained the last remnants of wine, then sitting back, serpentine eyes followed the angel's reactions. About 5.2 seconds later, not that Crowley was anxiously counting, Aziraphale's eyes widened in realisation, because who else would Crowley being plants for?

Tentatively, Aziraphale lifted the bouquet from the table, grasping at the tissue paper binding the stems together and ran his fingers over the delicate petals, cupping a solitary flower in his hand and inhaling the amplified scent.

It smelt of love.

Love that the humans showed to each other aimlessly every day. Love that two partners built over years of steady companionship. Love bloomed from a friendship. Love full of passion and hope and desire and everything in between.

It smelt like their love.

And in that moment, not a second before, Aziraphale's barriers fell away like feathers in a tornado, and love permeated the air, so strong that even a demon could feel its potency. So a certain demon did.

Edging closer to his angel, having miracled away the table in anticipation, his hand closed around Aziraphale's, drawing their eyes together, drawing them together, finally and forever.

Perhaps the flowers, films and fancy dinners weren't as unobtainable as he once believed, and with that thought, Aziraphale brought their lips together. And if these particular flowers never seemed to wilt, well, we won't mention that.


End file.
